


See In Color

by Mcusekat



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcusekat/pseuds/Mcusekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Reddit's r/WritingPrompts "You know who your soulmate is once they touch you. Yours just punched the shit out of you."</p><p>After a long day of work, Hux just wants to get drunk in peace at a bar. Of course, the universe has different plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See In Color

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Color" by Finish Ticket.
> 
> Prompt from r/WritingPrompts on Reddit.

   Hux wasn't a bar person.

  His philosophy was that alcohol is better when enjoyed in the silence and comfort of one's own home. However, it was his birthday and, as much as he claimed to not care about the somewhat entitled holiday, the emptiness of his apartment was suddenly more constricting than usual. Until he was properly drunk he decided he couldn't be in his flat alone, so he ventured out to the bar by his building after work.

  He was two glasses of whiskey in and hardly feeling the effects when the door of the bar swung open and someone stumbled in. The intruder was tall, with dark hair like ink falling to his shoulders. He wore a button down shirt, half tucked, with the top button open, and dark pressed slacks. He was eye-catching, handsome in an unconventional way. Had the man not been incredibly drunk at 8pm on a Wednesday night, leaning against the doorframe of a bar so he didn't tumble to the floor, Hux might have found him attractive.

  The man took a an entire five minutes to hobble the thirty feet from the doorway to the seat three down from Hux. Once seated he sighed, like he'd narrowly escaped death, and flagged a drink. Vodka. That explained quite a bit. Hux ignored him. At a bar on a workday he'd expected to run into some drunkards.

  Instead, he watched the television. There was a game of American football on TV. It wasn't a sports bar, but football was big enough in America that the game played everywhere regardless of what type of establishment it was.

  Hux never enjoyed sports, though. For one, the culture surrounding sports never appealed to him. It seemed to be something one had to be raised in to enjoy, and no one in his family ever cared for sports either. For two, he had difficulty telling the teams apart. He hadn't yet found his soulmate, so he couldn't see color. The way it worked, one had to have skin-to-skin contact with their soulmate to gain the ability to see color. This made it easier to find one's soulmate. Destiny or God or the Universe, whatever force directed life and all it's nonsense, made it so most soulmates found each other with minimal effort, often on accident early in life. Few died alone, and the ones who did were usually the ones who didn't care for romantic love, or cared for other things, like work, more.

  Hux considered himself in the latter category. Free moments like this were rare, he hadn't time to spare for bonding with another. No, he was working his way up the corporate ladder. His boss already told him that he had hand-picked Hux to take over the company after his impending retirement, and Hux intended to throw himself into that. He had already planned his future for this to be his main focus. If he found a soulmate he would have to rework his schedule to account for yet another person. Being colorblind was a small price to pay for a life of success and wealth.

  The man flagged another drink and the bartender shook his head. “You’ve had enough, I'm cutting you off for the night, buddy.”

  The man looked like he'd just been hit. “What? I've only had two!” he said, slurring slightly over his words.

  The bartender rolled his eyes, not buying it. He walked away to tend to other customers who weren't drunk off their asses.

  The man moved to the seat right beside Hux. He leaned in close, like he was about to tell Hux his most precious secret. However, when he spoke it was at his normal volume. “Hey, can you get me a drink? I'll give you the money.” The bartender heard this and gave Hux a warning look. It was quite unnecessary. Hux had no plans in enabling this man.

  “No. Perhaps you should go home and sleep it off,” he said, leaning away from him.

  The man looked crushed. Then he looked angry.

  “Everyone in this damned city is an asshole,” he scowled, crossing his arms like a three year old throwing a tantrum.

  “Sorry,” Hux said without a lick of apology in his tone. He tossed back his drink and felt the warm haze of a buzz settle over his mind.

  Meanwhile, the man beside him was stewing in his anger. His arms were crossed and he was staring bitterly at the TV. He wondered vaguely if the man had found his soulmate. He couldn't imagine who would be damned to a life with that prick. He pitied them, whoever it was. With any luck they were as big an asshole as he.

  Some time later, the glasses before Hux had nearly doubled. He was truly drunk, a state he had been working eagerly towards for the entirety of the evening. It was worth it, he reflected. The pleasant warmth of being out of his mind with alcohol was, well, pleasantly warm.

  What little decision making skills he had left told him to stop spending money. He tossed down enough to cover his tab, then stood up with the intention of leaving.

  “Going home so soon?” the man jeered. He hadn't caused any trouble since being denied alcohol and the bar was relatively empty on a Wednesday evening so the bartender didn't kick him out. However, it seemed that his anger at being denied alcohol hadn't faded, and now he was going to take something as simple as Hux leaving and turn it into an issue.

  Sober Hux wouldn't have succumbed so easily to his bait, but drunk Hux had 30 years of repressed anger under his skin just aching to get out.

  “Yes, what do you care?” Hux retorted in an unnecessarily provocative tone. The bartender looked up at them warily.

  The question seemed to catch the man off guard. He glared at Hux for a bit before replying with an astonishingly witty, “I don't.”

  Hux glared at the man. His drunken mind was working as fast as it could to bring forth a clever reply. “Are you trying to start a fight?” he spat.

  “Maybe.”

  The bartender chose now to intervene. He rushed to where they stood and said, “Take it outside, guys,” then pointed to the door.

  This left Hux and the man in a heated staring match, before the man stood and said, “Fine.”

  The air outside of the bar was cool. It was night time, nearly midnight. There were few cars on the street, and only more lowbrow establishments were still open. Down the way a fishnet stocking clad leg kicked up in three frames _._ A blinking neon sign beneath it read _The Doghouse_. The open door of the establishment spilled a soft grey light onto the street.

 Hux tugged up his sleeves for increased mobility, or whatever reason people in the movies tugged up their sleeves before a fight. The motion felt right, at least. He squared up. The man matched his stance.

  Hux swung first.

  The combination of booze and a desk job had significantly worn down his fighting skills since his short stint in the military, Hux quickly learned. His blow landed, but not nearly as hard as he'd wanted. Despite this, the man stumbled back and fell onto his ass. Hux followed, thrown off balance by the punch.

  Hux lay splayed on the concrete for a moment, processing what'd happened. The shoulder and knee he'd broken his fall with ached, but mostly he felt disappointment. The man had fallen first, so he supposed victory was his, but he had perhaps hoped for a more exciting match. He started to get up and maybe, if his now injured shoulder permitted, continue the fight. Instead he froze.

  The city streets were a slew of colors. The glowing _Doghouse_ sign was suddenly a garish array of flashing purples and reds. The light spilling from the club's open door was a bright pink. The car parked on the curb in front of him was a hideous lime green.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, then used his unhurt limb to prop himself up.

  Beside him the man was staring at him in equal parts horror and curiosity. He had brown eyes, Hux noted absently.

  “Of all the damn people in the world,” Hux said, clamoring into his feet. “Of all the damn people in the world it had to be you!” He tugged the sleeves of his coat down to occupy his hands, lest he start throwing punches again. The slight sobriety he'd gained from the shock told him that would be a bad idea.

  “I'm not very thrilled either,” the man grumbled. He was sitting on the cement now, stupidly long legs in a 'V’ before him and arms crossed over his chest. Hux stared down him, fuming silently. This was the man he was supposed to love? His soulmate? This random drunkard who'd picked a fight with him because he was denied alcohol?

  And now here he was, faced with a decision. He could stomp off, never to see the man again. In this moment, that was what Hux wanted. The man had more than proved that he was a huge dick, and Hux wanted nothing to do with him.

  However, he was his soulmate, his ultimate love. The one he was destined to be with, as foretold the Universe. Hux was now lucid enough to know that if he stomped off now he might regret it in the future.

  Then there was what the man wanted. He was still sat on the cement silently, still working through everything that had happened.

  Hux found middle ground. He pulled his wallet out and produced one of the business cards he kept. In his coat’s inside pocket he kept a pen. He pressed the card onto the brick wall and wrote his name and personal cell phone number onto the back, then tossed it onto the man's lap.

  The man looked up at him in surprise, but Hux was already marching away from the scene.

  Only later, when Hux was sober and vented would he feel the wisps of anticipation in his gut at the things to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at [Mcusekat](http://desertsongs.co.vu) for more garbage like this.


End file.
